


This Perfect Delusion

by MinervaFan



Category: The Office (UK)
Genre: F/M, Sugary Sweet Disgusting Adorableness, You've been warned, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 17:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19909120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinervaFan/pseuds/MinervaFan
Summary: If he was mad, he was mad. But at least his hallucinations made him happy.





	This Perfect Delusion

**Author's Note:**

> Because there just isn't enough Tim/Dawn fluff in the world. There will never be enough Tim/Dawn fluff in the world.

He always knew it would go this way. Too much time in that office, too much exposure to wanker-Gareth, combined with utter professional and romantic hopelessness? No doubt in his mind he would end up here someday, half-pissed at the office holiday party, hallucinating.

Granted, his pessimistic nature had never been as generous as this actual hallucination was. No, in his imagined breakdown, he'd experienced everything from evil clowns to being yelled at by Gordon Ramsey for the sub-par quality of his beans on toast.

This delusion, however, was Dawn-shaped. It looked like her, smelled like her, kissed like he'd always imagined she'd kiss, sort of awkward and sweet and utterly Dawn-esque. The delusion Dawn put delusion wanker-Gareth (or was it real wanker-Gareth?) in his place without missing a beat, turning back to place another hallucinogenic kiss on his eager lips.

Madness was a hell of a lot better than Tim had expected. And when the bright-eyed, tanned, Dawn-shaped delusion (Dawnlusion?) took his hand and led him away from the party and the utter Wernham-Hoggness of it all, Tim Canterbury knew he would happily abandon sanity for one more moment of this perfect delusion.

*

  
  


The Dawn TInsley who walked calmly out of the Wernham-Hogg holiday party, hand in hand with Tim, was very much  _ not  _ the rational, grown-up Dawn who’d walked into the party earlier on. No, that Dawn was tucked away, dazed and dazzled, in a room where the voices of every rational, grown-up person who’d ever told her what to do were pounding at the door trying to get in. 

No, the Dawn who took TIm’s hand had fingers tacky from glue and glitter and modeling clay, a face made serious as she embarked on this very, very impractical adventure. This Dawn hadn’t seen the light of day in years, and she was not about to let the stares of her former coworkers distract her. No, she was out of her cage, and no one was going to lock her up again. They could hang their rational, grown-up, practical, sensible, stupid, repressive concern. She didn’t care a bit for it as she walked away from her sure thing to find mischief hand in hand with the best mate she’d ever known.

The camera crew followed them out. When one of them started to film, she twirled around, ready to snarl and pounce and tell them to sod the fuck off. But Tim beat her to it. He growled... _ actually growled _ ...at them and told them to find their own fantasy. This was his.

Well, that was weird.

The newly-free Dawn, Dawnie of the crayons and glittery fingers and randomly cut bits of paper, flung herself at Tim’s weirdness like an old friend. She’d make it into a character, a funny little cartoon fellow called Lolly, and they’d share all sorts of adventures together in their own little magical land.

She laughed.

He laughed.

They kissed again, still holding hands in the chilly, wet night that was blissfully nothing like Florida. 

“I have no place to go,” she breathed against his lips.

“I have no place to take you,” he countered. “Still live with my parents.”

She laughed again, and he laughed too. 

It was sheer madness. They were utterly mad.

Somewhere in the depths of this glorious insanity, Sane Dawn was suggesting she phone her parents. But that would involve breaking the news about Lee to them, and Not-Quite-Sane Dawn was having none of that.

“How much money have you got?” she asked, nipping the tip of his nose playfully. She could ask the documentary crew, but that came with a price. She dug in her bag, pulled out a couple of travelers’ cheques that  _ hadn’t _ found their way into Lee’s wallet. “I’ve got a hundred quid.”

He pulled his wallet out and counted the cash. “Sixteen.”

She laughed again. “Take me to the second-to-worst hotel you know, milord, and we shall continue this conversation in luxury.” 

“I’ll spring for the cab,” he bowed low with an exaggerated flourish.

*

As this delusion came complete with luggage, it was easy to convince the clerk they were simply tired travelers seeking a place to spend the night. It was perfect, really. Cheap enough to fool his superego. Honestly, had they landed at the Stoke Park, he’d have been shot right out of the illusion and back into his own dreary life. But the Travelodge Slough? Yeah, just right and free breakfast as well. 

He lay on the bed, enjoying his crazy in all its tourist class glory, closing his eyes as he relived, yet again, the kiss at the party. Oh, as madness went, this was top choice, best of the best. He could still taste the sunlight on her skin. He’d actually  _ tasted _ sunlight when he’d kissed her. Sunlight and every colour of the rainbow. Sunlight, rainbows, and just a hint of candy floss. Yeah, that’s how delusions were supposed to work.

“You sleeping?” He started. She was dressed in a black and red sport top with the number 55 in white letters and the name “Brooks” on the back. The shirt was huge on her, and came down a few inches below her...um...she was not wearing anything else.

As delusions went, it was...exhilarating. “Definitely not sleeping,” he said. “Who’s Brooks?” 

She shrugged. “I have no clue. It was on sale at the shop, and I bought it. I had it for about eight months before I found out it was American football.” 

He grimaced at the thought, and she laughed and plopped down on the bed next to him. Tim tried not to stare at her legs, which were just as tan and nicely formed as the rest of his Dawnlusion was. She’d pulled her hair, which yes indeed, was still the color of every sunny day he’d ever loved in his entire life, back into a messy braid that fell over her right shoulder. He wanted to trace every inch of it for the rest of his life. Instead, he just smiled up at her like an idiot.

Fortunately, “grinning idiot” was not a look that offended the Dawnlusion, and she stretched out those tanned legs and let herself be gathered into his arms. 

They kissed again, just two people lying on a bed in a dream that had sort of come true. It was enough, he thought, just to kiss her. He explored her with his kisses, her eyes and cheeks and lips and hair and throat and every part of her that she would allow. Sex didn’t even come into his mind, because who is going to mess with living sunlight and rainbows wearing an American football jersey?

No, he would kiss her until the fever broke, until he woke alone and lonely again, back in his dreary life, but better for this moment of madness.

Because when one is mad, kissing the sun is just about the best way to spend an evening.

*

She’d forgotten about kisses. How on Earth had she forgotten kisses? 

Grown-up Dawn, Practical Dawn, Sensible Dawn, knew all about sex. With Lee, she’d learned how to “please her man,” reading Cosmo and other mags to find the best techniques to keep him interested. She’d kept fit so he wouldn’t go wandering. She’d even dyed her hair brown just to add a little spice to their sex life, only to endure his ridicule as he insisted she’d “gone the wrong way” and accused her of looking for “artificial intelligence” in a bottle of L’Oreal.

But kissing? Oh, kissing was glorious. It was like puttering in clay, malleable and transformative. It was like pastel sticks, sweet and soft and flexible, where every shade was possible with just the right amount of pressure and finesse. Oh, kissing was a revelation and the now-quiet Grown-Up Dawn felt a moment of shame at having ever settled for less than this magical experience. That moment evaporated when she caught Tim looking at her--like an angel, like a miracle, like a revelation herself.

How had she ever let herself think she didn’t deserve this? 

Which one of God’s creatures didn’t deserve this? 

Kissing, touching, kissing some more. It could have been minutes, hours, lifetimes. All that had very little meaning at the moment. She felt Tim's hand on her thigh. With Lee, it would have been a signal. Enough foreplay, down to business. Stop wasting time, we’ve got work in the morning.

But Tim’s hand was lazy on her skin, just touching and exploring. She looked into his eyes again. “If you want…”

He grinned. “I’m good,” he whispered, placing a sweet kiss on her hair. “I’ll probably shoot myself when I wake up from this dream, but I’m good just being with you. It’s more than I ever hoped for.”

She kissed him again, and again, and again until they drifted off to sleep.

*

It didn’t truly hit him until around three in the morning. He’d gotten up to go to the loo, drowsy and dazed as he stumbled in the unfamiliar surroundings. He smiled to himself at the lovely dream he’d had, smiled at how she still gave him bliss from 4,391 miles away. That was the distance between Slough and Tampa, Florida, USA. He’d looked it up.

He took off his wrinkled shirt and dropped it on the floor of the bedroom, still in his trousers as he got into bed. That was when it hit him.

She was there.

Her tiny form, wrapped in the blankets, hair all messy and mouth open, snoring gently.

She was there.

She was real.

He held his breath as he lay down next to her, terrified of breaking the spell, waking her, waking the world. 

She was there.

She was home.

She was finally home.

It took him a long time to fall asleep as she snuggled into his arms, mumbling something incoherent but intoxicatingly adorable into his chest.

Dawn was home.

*

She sketched first, then added color. Her fingers felt like magic, and the shapes just formed themselves on the page. Tim shifted slightly, but she could still see enough of his face to continue. She’d never noticed before, that slight curve there. How his mouth just…

She giggled, adding more color to the page. It was hardly her best work, a tiny critical voice began in her head, and she dabbed its nose with a splash of yellow paint and continued her efforts. 

_ There _ , just a dab of brown. Not too much--he’s not dull. He’s a weird little thing, and that’s what makes him wonderful.

A single eye cracked open, and her subject mumbled, “Are you drawing me?”

“Don’t be daft. I finished drawing, now I”m painting you.” 

He shifted his body again. There was a tuft of hair sticking straight up on top of his head, and Dawn quickly added a stroke to her drawing. There was no way she wasn’t capturing  _ that _ ! It was too perfect for words.

“It’s very disconcerting,” he said, lifting himself up on one arm. 

He’d lost his shirt during the night, and Dawn did her best not to notice too closely. After all, this was  _ art  _ she was creating. “Being painted?”

“In my sleep. I think I drool in my sleep. You didn’t paint that, did you?”

She laughed. “Now, would I paint an unflattering portrait of you?” More laughter, because they both knew she damned well would. When he held out a hand to her, she gave up. She could finish this later. Right now, Dawn wanted nothing more than to be in his arms.

Oh, that kissing again. “A girl could get used to this,” she murmured against his lips. 

“You’re  _ really here _ ,” he said with all the incredulity of a child in a toy shop. “You’re really here!”

“Lock, stock, and years of baggage,” she whispered. Her hand pressed against his chest. She could feel the heartbeat just beyond the rib cage, and she knew without reason that the rhythm matched that of the heart beating in her own chest. It always had, she’d just been too afraid to notice.

As the kiss deepened, she knew that, no matter what, she’d always have someone who believed in her. 

_ And _ she’d have Tim.

She’d always have Tim.

*

He dozed on and off. They’d missed check-out, but he didn’t care. He’d find the money for the extra night somewhere. Dawn snoozed in his arms, naked and beautiful and real. She’d been more than he’d ever dreamed, more beautiful, more tender, more playful. More  _ everything. _

He wasn’t sure where he’d find for them to live, but he knew he never wanted to sleep again if she wasn’t in his arms. He’d never be able to dream without the soft sound of her breathing in his ears.

“Hey,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. “We missed check-out time.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said. 

“Yeah…” 

Dawn reached up and grabbed her sketch pad. It was lovely that she kept one in her suitcase. That bastard Lee hadn’t killed all her hope, it seemed. Tim lifted himself slightly, hoping to catch a peek at what she’d drawn, but she blushed, suddenly shy. “Come on, give us a look. You’ve already drawn me, so I know you can do a likeness.”

“Okay.” She handed him the pad, lifting the cover to show him her work.

“Wow, that’s….” He struggled to take it in. She  _ had _ drawn him, yes. It was obviously him. But it was him as a cartoon dragon, all pudgy and colorful and happy. The dragon floated on tiny wings attached to its back, little puffs of smoke coming from its nostrils. The landscape around it was like nothing he’d ever seen before--a cross between Munchkinland and a candy shop. Just in the background, there was a little girl, sweet and chubby with plaits the colour of sunshine, skipping alongside the dragon.

“That’s Lolly,” she said, pointing to the dragon. “He’s a very weird dragon, but he’s full of fun and life. Back there is Little Dawn. She’s Lolly’s best friend, ever….” 

Tim lay back, awash in amazement as Dawn continued.

“...and they are going to have the most amazing adventures together…”

Oh, yes, Dawn, he thought. They  _ are _ going to have the most amazing adventures together.

The End


End file.
